A Warrior No More
by Peace Angel
Summary: How did Martin the Warrior decide to hang up his legendary sword for good? This is the story. Slightly angsty, and a tiny insignificant amount of Martin/Rose. From Martin's POV


A Warrior No More 

    As I slowly sip at my beaker of cider, the soft breeze blows through the air, ruffling my face. I look across at the Abbey pond where the Dibbuns can be seen, splashing with Skipper, who has happily joined in the merry-making.

    I sigh as I swirl the cider around and I take another tiny sip. I swallow the delicious liquid, sit back and look around, taking everything in.

    Rose, I wish you were here to see this. Redwall Abbey is such a peaceful place and I'm sure you would have liked it. This is for you, all of it.

    I scowl in disgust as I remember the time of your death. Filthy vermin, roaming the lands, plundering and murdering those who are weaker and defenseless. They are the cause of all my grief. First, my mother, Sayna, and my tribe, then my father, Luke, both whom I cannot remember well and I never will get to know as much as I would like to. Then, they got to you, too, Rose. Tsarmina was just as bad, even if she wasn't a vermin. It is _them_ that cause all the misery and sorrow among goodbeasts.

    My grip tightens around my beaker in sudden anger and frustration. So much bloodshed I have seen! All I ask for is for peace and no war or fighting. Is that too much to ask?! To see my loved ones smiling at me every day, alive and well…that can't be too much to ask for, can it? Can it?!

    I take a deep breath, savouring the fresh, clean air just to calm myself again. I bow my head low, contemplating something.

    What if I was to hang up my sword – my father's and my grandsire's sword before me – for the rest of my life and to give up the role of a Warrior? Maybe it would ease the pain that forever haunts me. To give up the life of fighting for a life of peace…would it be better than this?

    I glance up from my sitting spot and I see my best friend, Gonff, take a seat beside me.

    "So, Martin, what are ye up to, mate? You seem awful quiet today," he said.

    "Just…thinking, Gonff," I reply, draining my beaker of cider.

    "Really? About what, if I'm allowed to ask?"

    I sigh and stay silent. Gonff is my best friend but he would never understand the pain I go through. He has a family and he has never led a life of hardship. "Nothing," is my only reply.

    Gonff must have sensed that something was not right and that I was in no mood for this. "Well, all right. I'll leave ye to do your thinkin'. Dinner is almost ready. I'll be off now. I think I can hear my Columbine calling and I better go find little Gonflet. You know him; always getting' into trouble." With that, I watched as Gonff stood up, brushed himself off and made his way to the kitchens.

    I turned back to my pondering, turning the same question in my head.

    Would a life of peace be better than living the life of a Warrior?

    "What is wrong, my dear Warrior?" asks a frail voice beside me. I flinch slightly at being called "Warrior" but I quickly dismiss it when I recognize the voice belonging to the Mother Abbess Germaine.

    "Abbess Germaine, are you sure you should be out here? Here, let me help you," I ask the ancient Mother Abbess of Redwall as she tries to sit down beside me. I assist her until she is comfortable.

    "You look sad, Martin," comments the Abbess. "What is it that is causing you so much unhappiness?" Germaine looks deep into my eyes and she nods as if she understands. "You are grieving for your lost loved ones, am I right?"

    I nod solemnly, not bothering to wonder how Abbess Germaine knew what was going on inside my head.

    "It still hurts, then?" she asks.

    "Yes. It hurts because I couldn't help them," I reply, clenching and unclenching my paws. "It is my fault that they are all gone. My mother because she tried to protect me; my father because he was protecting my tribe and he didn't want me to go with him because I was too small; Rose because I wasn't there when she needed me."

    Abbess Germaine stares at me. I look back and I see that she also has a painful past.

    She finally speaks up. "I too know what it is like to see loved ones die before you while you stand to the side helpless. Do not blame yourself."

    There is more silence as we both remember.

    "Something else is bothering you," she says suddenly. "Tell me and maybe I can help more." She places a comforting paw over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

    I look at her face and for some reason feel immediately calmed. "Tell me, wise Mother Abbess, would living a life of peace with normal Abbey dwellers be better than living a life of a warrior?" I ask in a low voice.

    Germaine smiles warmly. "I'm afraid that I cannot answer that. It is you, Martin son of Luke, that must answer that for it is your own destiny. I will tell you something, though. Whatever choice you make, I – or rather, _we_ – will support your decision and we will be behind you every step of the way. Choose wisely, Martin. I'm sure you will make the right choice."

    Slowly and cautiously, Germaine straightens up and walks off into the distance. I don't watch her but instead, I muse upon the Abbess' words.

***

    "Krar, I need a favour of you," I said as I nervously stroke my sword at my side.

    "What of, Warrior?" Krar asks curiously.

    Gradually, I unsheathe my sword and look upon its sharp blade for possibly the last time. "Here, take this. I want you to take my sword and attach it with these wires on to the weather vane on the top of the Abbey. Is that clear?"

    The huge goshawk nods, showing he understands but I can see the puzzlement in his eyes.

    In shaking paws, I hand my sword, the only thing linking me to my past, to the bird and I watch as Krar takes off in a rush of air and wingbeats.

    Long after Krar finishes the task do I stand there under the darkening sky in complete silence. I have done it. My life is forever changed and there is no going back. My life – and title – of a warrior is finished and now, I look forward to a life of peace.

    "You have made you decision?" asks Abbess Germaine as she shuffles toward my side.

    I put a paw over her thin shoulders and smile warmly at her. "Yes. Thank you for your help."

    "So where did you put your sword?" the Abbess inquires.

    I muse at this. No, it's better that nobeast knows where the sword lies. "I will tell you only this:

_Above where autumn's mists do rise_

_Where I behold with mine own eyes_

_My dream, my vision, hov'ring there_

One morn upon old Mossflower's air" 

    Another slight breeze tousles the air as Abbess Germaine looks at me curiously but says no more of it. There is more silence as I continue to think. Without thinking, I continue,

"_I stand here in this world alone_

_No kin of mine to take the sword_

_No son or daughter of my own_

_A bitter and sad reward_

_But Redwall in its hour of need_

_Will bring forth one to follow me_

_To that one, valiant in deed_

_I leave a Warrior's legacy_"

    I snap out of my trance and turn back to the frail abbess beside me. "Now come, Mother Abbess, I believe dinner is awaiting us."

    Abbess Germaine smiles back. "Yes, I think so too. Shall we go, Martin?"

    I nod as I take her paw and we walk together, talking like old friends.

    Martin was a warrior no more.

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   That was so bad!!! Oh I hope it's not as bad as I think it is. I just thought of this one night and I couldn't get the idea out of my head so I wrote it.

   Oh yeah, here's the disclaimer: Martin, Gonff, Abbess Germaine or anything from Redwall does not belong to me and the poems, I got from "The Legend of Luke" so, no, I did not write them.

    Please tell me what you think. This is my first Redwall "fic" and, yes, I found it really hard to get into Martin's mind. Sheesh, the number of times I had to pause and think! Well, anyways, hope you enjoyed and please, no flames! Be gentle cuz I know it's bad.


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